


I'm coming home, wait for me

by Andromache_Wanders



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 07:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromache_Wanders/pseuds/Andromache_Wanders
Summary: Every once in a while, if all council work is done, if all spells have been cast, if all the small tasks have been finished, they can cast off their titles and just be themselves.-Or- Merlin and Arthur spend some time together away from their official roles.





	I'm coming home, wait for me

**Author's Note:**

> First ever fic! Felt right to start here, because my first real writing was in this world.  
> Also, because these two deserve everything.
> 
> Title from 'Unchained Melody' by the Righteous Brothers

Every once in a while, if all council work is done, if all spells have been cast, if all the small tasks have been finished, they can cast off their titles and just be themselves.

Not ‘King Arthur’ and ‘Merlin the Court Magician’.

“Merlin.”

“Arthur.”

After all these years, that cocky, self-confident smile is still the same. Even though strands of grey now sit amongst the gold and the wrinkle in his forehead creates an eternal frown – much to Merlin’s amusement and Arthur’s annoyance – the way he looks at Merlin has never changed. One step away from teasing, infinitely fond and full of contentment.

The beginning of a joke sits on Arthur’s lips and in his eyes. Merlin still tries to appear annoyed at his jokes and japes, but both of them know that it has been a very long time since they caused any hurt, especially as he teases him in return just as often.

“Merlin, I…”

“Sire, could I fetch you some water? It is rather hot today.”

“Merlin.”

“Not water? A little food, perhaps, sire? It is some time since lunch. You must be hungry, in your old age.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Merlin.”

“Neither? Surely there is something I can get that would keep you going.”

Arthur grumbles to himself.

“Pardon, sire?”

“You are a clotpole, Merlin.”

“I do believe that you will find that ‘clotpole’ may only be used by me, sire, in reference to you.”

Arthur stands, his chair scraping backwards. The light from the window behind him illuminates his hair so it looks like the sun. To Merlin, Arthur is always like the sun, not that he would ever tell anyone that, least of all Arthur himself. He stalks over until he is so close his breath makes Merlin’s hair shift slightly.

“Merlin, I was going to ask if you had any plans for today, like the kind, generous king that I am, though you clearly are not at all interested.”

“Interested in what, sire?”

Arthur glares at him.

Merlin laughs.

It takes all of three seconds before the stern expression on Arthur’s face breaks and he is laughing too, a laugh that comes from deep in his stomach. It is Merlin’s favourite sound in the world, not least because he knows that he has made it come into being.

“I’ll get some food,” he says.

Arthur picks up a leather bag that has been sitting against the legs of his desk since late morning. “You see, Merlin, sometimes I am capable of looking after myself.”

Merlin takes the bag and peers inside.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks as Merlin rummages around.

“Checking you have everything,” he says, all nonchalance. “The day that you can look after yourself is the day that the sky turns yellow and Camelot turns purple.”

Arthur punches him. Only lightly, but Merlin recoils as if in real pain.

“Clotpole,” he says. “We’re not all great warrior-kings always wearing armour, you know.”

“Do you want to go out or not?”

“You know the answer to that.”

So they leave Arthur’s rooms, and while they walk down to the stables, they are King Arthur and Merlin the Court Magician, all decorum and self-restraint. But as soon as they are out of the city gates, the titles slip again. They ride side by side, close enough to touch.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asks as they follow the path into the trees.

“Nowhere in particular,” Arthur says, in that way that says that he knows exactly where he is going. He rides just ahead of Merlin, guiding them through the trees. Merlin knows where they are going. They have made this journey dozens of times before. 

Not far out of Camelot, there is a small clearing on the brow of a hill, looking out onto an endless expanse of trees. This is their place, the place that no one knows about. The place where once, many years and scars ago, they sat in the red light of sunset and first admitted what they felt for each other. Maybe someone, sometime in the future, will come across it and find the stone inscribed M A buried in the roots of a tree. Maybe time will weather the scratches away to nothing before anyone can.

They leave the horses just beyond the clearing and walk the rest of the distance, slipping past bushes and low branches.

It is nearly sunset, and as the sun dips below the trees below them, Arthur slips his fingers around Merlin’s. They watch until the sky is dark and the moon casts its white light over the world, rendering it in shades of grey.

They eat the food they have brought, and when that is gone, they stand again.

“You should have brought something hot,” Merlin says, making a show of wrapping his robe more tightly around himself.

Arthur snorts. “You are more trouble than you are worth.”

“But you love me.”

Arthur turns towards him, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, in his eyes, in the way the wrinkle in his forehead lifts slightly. “Unfortunately,” he says, “I do.”

They don’t often have times like this. But when they do, they are the most beautiful times of all.


End file.
